The Dead Diplomat
by DirtyFox2
Summary: Booth and Brennan must travel to Prague, Czech Republic to uncover the killer of a young American Embassy employee.
1. Chapter 1

FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth sat uncomfortably in the confines of a Boeing 747-400 aircraft that had just finished a lengthy journey across the Atlantic Ocean and was currently in the skies somewhere over France.

Despite the wide-body design of the 747 Booth still didn't find comfort in the advertised 'spacious seating of the economy class'. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite as he recalled riding in the back of armored personnel carriers in his Army days that seemed to have more space than here.

Beside him sat a rather portly fellow— a man that by all fair accounts should have two seats assigned to him rather than one. However, this was not the case and the man poured over the arm rest that separated the two, irritating Booth further. Despite the man's circumference being the obvious reason for this situation he had the audacity to look at Booth with irritation each time he attempted to adjust his considerable weight for more comfort; each time he bumped or jarred Booth substantially enough to garner a frustrated glance from the Special Agent. This glance was returned by a menacing glare.

To make matters worse an elderly woman sitting in front of Booth reclined her seat to the fullest extent possible, complicating Booth's attempt to enjoy his in-flight meal because the reclined seat obstructed his service tray. What a stupid design, he thought. Additionally that same woman had a habit of moving around in her seat quite frequently, causing the chair to push back repeatedly which led to the seat bumping Booth's knees. This was a minor nuisance; it caused no pain of course, but was annoying enough to cause mounting exasperation as the lengthy flight continued.

Across the aisle a young fraught-ridden mother tried to calm her baby son, who clearly liked flying even less than Booth as he voiced this distaste with escalating crescendos of alarming crying; granting respite only periodically as he fell asleep on different legs of the journey. Now, however, he was in full swing— crying out with surprising force and seeming to froth at the mouth to Booth.

Ah, but at least he sat in the aisle. A kingly residence to take up in a place meant for paupers. That was a benefit; it had saved him on this wretched trans-Atlantic flight. It had allowed him to stretch his legs from beneath the oppressive chair which constantly leaned back into his personal space, it made it easy to stand up and walk the aisle from time to time and he was able to quickly venture to the bathroom.

The beverage cart! Yes, the beverage cart was coming and it created a level of excitement in Booth as it materialized through the forward hanging curtain. He was parched and this little cart of delight would provide him with sustenance.

Pain sent shivers up his aching spine and a throbbing sensation soon made itself known upon his shin. His savior, that little trolley of hope and relief had been piloted by a bumbling newcomer to the world of flight attendance. This coupled with Booth's leg stretched freely into the aisle led to a disastrous calamity. The cart struck him with a degree of force causing his brow to furrow in pain. He forced a smile and a nod of the head as the steward apologized for the accident, though Booth knew he was partly to blame as well—- it certainly did not help the situation. Oh how he wanted to scream.

He closed his eyes tightly and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his dexterous fingers. He was nearly there, almost to his destination. He exhaled deeply, trying desperately to think of something that could occupy his mind, but a familiar voice disturbed his thoughts.

"Enjoying the trip?" Dr. Temperance Brennan, Booth's partner and renowned forensic anthropologist asked in a near mischievous tone. Stunning blue eyes that belied her immense intelligence peered down at Booth- a sly grin cracked upon her face.

Booth let out a deep sigh, grimaced and then leaned forward. He peeled his sweat-stained t-shirt from his back. Perspiration had overtaken him on the flight. The small vent for air had not been adequate enough to keep him cool; especially with Jumbo pressing up against him on the right side.

"Oh, everything's just peachy-keen, Bones," he said in an incensed voice.

"I find my accommodations to be more than sufficient. They provided me with a small suite. It's quite amusing. My recliner allows for approximately 150 and 239 centimeters of pitch and between 50 and 90 centimeters of width. It's very comfortable. I also have a small workstation, mini-bar and there's even a television like the one you have in your living room," Brennan unapologetically listed the accoutrements of her sizeable suite aboard the aircraft.

"Well that's the benefit of first-class, I guess," Booth answered dejectedly.

"You should consider upgrading," she suggested.

"I can't afford that," Booth responded with despair, knowing there would be a long return flight from Europe after the case was solved.

"Frequent flyer miles. I'm part of the Star Alliance—-if you get enough miles with different airlines that are members of the Star Alliance then you can use your miles to upgrade," she exclaimed proudly, happy to be teaching something to Booth.

"Yeah, yeah I know about flyer miles, Bones," he said back, calling her by the nickname he had given her many years ago. "Look, I'm just fine back here in steerage."

"It doesn't look like."

"Well I am, okay?"

"Do you want to talk about the case?" Bones asked with interest. She hadn't seen much of Booth since they'd been in the airport. Once beyond security they had gone to separate lounges. Brennan's first-class ticket allowed for her to spend her time in a first-class lounge, while Booth waited in the regular waiting area. Things were the same aboard the plane.

"What's there to talk about?" Booth asked with a sigh. His joints and shoulder ached endlessly.

"Why are we being called all the way to the Czech Republic for a murder investigation? This doesn't sound like something the FBI has jurisdiction over," Bones voiced her reservations. She folded her arms and looked down at her partner expectantly.

"They think the body they found belongs to an employee from the American Embassy—- now the State Department's Diplomatic Security Service is the law enforcement branch and they'd normally be heading up the investigation, but on occasion the FBI has taken the lead on this sort of thing. Not to mention the body is apparently pretty decomposed and… well, that's where you come in," Booth explained to Bones why the two of them had been called all the way to Europe. He'd been happy for the chance to see Europe, even if it was for work. But the timing couldn't have been worse- he was missing Parker's birthday and that was something he wasn't happy about it. Rebecca, his mother, had had him the previous year and this time it was Seeley's turn, but the job was taking him away from that opportunity and his son's birthday meant far more to him than seeing Europe.

Jumbo, the fellow beside him looked over at him with a profound look of disgust emblazoned upon his face at the sound of the word 'decomposed'.

"What?" Booth challenged. The man scoffed and looked away.

"Well it's going to be difficult to work without the lab equipment at the Jeffersonian, not to mention the rest of the team," Bones admitted. Initially she'd been supremely confident in her skills. That hadn't changed now, but she certainly relied on her co-workers, her friends, much more than those early days of this entire investigative branch her career had taken.

"It'll be fine, Bones. It's not the first case we've done away from the D.C. area," Booth retorted. He cracked a yawn right after.

"Fair enough," she acquiesced, trusting in his reassurance and she had always done. She hovered for a moment, expecting him to say something else, but he seemed far more distracted by the conditions of his seating location. She hadn't seen him this agitated in a long time. "Anything else?"

"No, no, I don't think so. No, nothing else," he stumbled over his words, craning in his seat as he attempted to stretch and alleviate the soreness developing in his lower back.

"Back to my seat, then," she told him.

"You mean suite, back to your suite?" Booth asked jealously.

"Yes," she admitted. "Back to my suite."

Booth grimaced once more, watching her disappear through the curtain that lay ahead of him. He leaned his chair back and heard a snort. A quick glance revealed an angry passenger who he'd bumped as he reclined. He sighed as the ominous stare didn't subside and then raised his chair back up to the full, upright position. He closed his eyes forcefully, hoping sleep would find him. In a few hours he'd be landing at Ruzyně Airport in Prague—- he just needed to get through those few hours…

As a side note, this story takes place sometime after the 100th episode but before the finale and also after Hodgins and Angela got back together.


	2. Chapter 2

Booth and Bones, as always, stayed in separate hotels. Booth awoke that morning in a modest sized hotel room belonging to the Hilton Hotel in Prague, while Bones was quartered in the luxuriant Alchemist Hotel- one of Prague's finest venues and located right across the street from the American Embassy. This left Booth with the unfortunate task of waking earlier in the morning (earning himself a mere four and a half hours of sleep) and being picked up by an Embassy driver who would take him to the scene; subsequently he would meet Bones there.

As Booth approached the vehicle in the brisk morning air a genial, middle-aged man with brown hair stepped out and scurried around to the other side of the blue Chevy Suburban. He drew open the heavy armored door and greeted the approaching FBI agent with an enormous smile emblazoned upon his face. "Good morning, sir. I am Bohumil, your driver- but you can call me Bob."

"Good to meet you Bob, I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, but you can call me Booth," Booth replied with a level of amiability that he did not feel, although this man's happy disposition cheered him up a bit and made him forget his lack of sleep.

He hopped inside and Bob quickly made his way around to the other side. Within a moment they were on their way to the crime scene.

Prague was a beautiful city- known throughout Europe and the world by its many nicknames such as 'City of 100 Spires', 'The Golden City', and 'Prague- Mother of Cities'. It was an entrancing mix of varying styles of architecture from Baroque, Romanesque and Gothic to Neo-Renaissance, Ultra-Modern and Cubist.

While crossing a bridge over the Vltava Booth noted a giant statue of a Metronome built atop a hill that climbed up from the western banks of the hulking river.

"That's an interesting statue," Booth remarked, glancing up at it as the car progressed over the bridge.

"Yes, yes- many years ago it was a statue of Stalin, but it was torn down after Communistic times end here," Bob told him delightfully.

"Interesting…" Booth muttered. "This is quite a city."

"Oh yes, it is very, very, very beautiful," Bob agreed with a smile and a chuckle.

"Are you from here?" Booth asked curiously. He might as well get to know the man that would be driving him around.

"Oh no, I am from small town in Moravia, but my Monica and I have lived here a very long time," he replied as he calmly turned the car left, just before a cavernous roadway that dug beneath the large hill which the Metronome sat upon- the sign 'Letensky Tunnel' could clearly be seen.

"That's your wife?" Booth asked with a raised brow.

"Oh yes, sir, we have been married since my time in Army when I was young man- very good girl. Sometimes she is fighting with me saying to me 'Bob, you need to be home more for the children, you must not work so hard!' wanting to choke me! But what can I do? I must work, Prague is expensive place… but I love my Monica still- I am very lucky," Bob asserted that with pride. Booth envied him for having a woman that he cared about so deeply after a presumably lengthy amount of time together.

As they progressed along their journey Bob explained some of the finer points of the city, listing them off by their Czech names and what they meant in English- such as the Malá Strana, or 'Little Side'. It was one of Prague's oldest and most historic sections. Named for being on the lesser side of the Vltava, it was located at the base of the hill which dominated the skyline around the Malá Strana. Atop the hill sat a sprawling complex of originally ancient design. Prague Castle stood erect, domineering over the entirety of Prague as it could be seen from almost anywhere in the city. It was an amalgamation of different architectural styles- with different styles ranging from the full breadth of the last millennium.

There was the Gothic cathedral of St. Vitus, whose spires rose high above the rest of the castle. Then there was the Romanesque Basilica of St. George. Within the opulent walls there was many gardens, some guard towers and several museums. It was truly a marvel to look at.

The road was bumpy; Booth could feel the significant difference in the cobblestoned roads of the Malá Strana from the roads back in Washington D.C. (although there were fewer potholes).

At long last the Suburban reached its destination; the scene of the crime, or where the body had been brought ashore after having been pulled from the water of the Vltava.

The crime scene itself was a display of organized chaos. A combination of different organizations crowded the bank of the Vltava on the opposite side of the tape which sectioned the scene off from civilians passing by. Many curious tourists halted in place, craning their heads in an attempt to see what was causing all the commotion.

There was Czech State Police, Prague metropolitan police trying to control the scene, the Prague coroner's office, Interpol and Embassy personnel bustling around the area.

The body was down nearby the edge of the walkway which ran along the side of the river. It had been spotted by an unfortunate couple attempting to enjoy a romantic rowing experience along the currents of the Vltava. Afterward, the Czech police had brought the body ashore and contacted the American Embassy after finding a severely damaged Embassy badge.

The area where the body had been brought ashore was sequestered by Czech police upon the request of the Regional Security Officer (the senior Federal agent of the DSS in Prague). The police had also begun dredging the river for any additional clues that might be nearby.

As he approached the scene, pressing past crime scene tape and police after flashing his badge, Booth immediately smelled the remains as he came upon them and his face contorted from the stench. It was something he'd never gotten used to and somehow something that never really bothered Bones or the rest of the squint squad for that matter- save for Angela.

Booth spotted Bones standing beside a suit-clad government type- probably the RSO from the Embassy. She was characteristically dressed in her 'field suit', a dark blue piece of apparel that resembled a Ty-Vech chem/bio suit made of impermeable plastic material with the symbol of the Medico-Legal lab of the Jeffersonian Institute stenciled on the back. A thick black belt was wrapped about her slim waist, accompanied by a litany of little pouches and compartments. It had always reminded Booth of Batman's utility belt.

The presumed Regional Security Officer was a tall, lean man built much like Booth with tightly cropped brown hair and light-hearted brown eyes.

He must have said something humorous because Bones was laughing just as Booth arrived.

"Booth," Bones greeted, breaking her laughter. "This is Wade Bowen; he's the security officer from the State Department. He was just telling me a story from his first couple of days here- he's quite amusing."

"That's uh- that's swell, Bones," Booth began, a spark of jealousy flared in his chest. "I'm Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI." He flashed his badge to the DS agent, who wasn't impressed unlike most people that Booth identified himself to. Such was the case, given the fact that this man was also a federal agent.

"Nice to meet you- Wade Bowen," he welcomed, offering a hand. He had a strong grip and gave a firm shake of the hand, something that Booth returned in kind. The RSO cracked a small grin.

Despite Bones' considerable lack of social skills she started to notice the slight tension that was building in the air as a result of Booth's appearance. Though Booth had taught her a significant amount about interpersonal relationships and the human condition, she still couldn't understand why this sudden tension arose. So she turned her attention to the case in an attempt to alleviate it.

"Victim is female, between the ages of nineteen and twenty-nine," she began suddenly. The two federal agents turned their attention to the striking forensic anthropologist. "I'll need Hodgins to examine particulates in order to approximate time of death, but the time spent in the water could've accelerated decomposition extensively."

"How can you tell that's a female?" Bowen asked with interest. The remains of the victim left little in the way of actual flesh. Different bits of the body still had enough upon it to identify as a human being, but the face and head was just a skull now with a few stray stands of hair, most of the thoracic cavity was gone- well the exterior anyways, there was ample soft tissue and organs remaining within. However, it looked like a bloody mess and one Bowen didn't particularly like looking at.

"There's a significant amount of sexual dimorphism when it comes to the human skeleton. This is mostly evident in the pelvic region. Females have a larger and broader pelvis, the greater sciatic notch is wider in females, the acetabula are wider apart in females than in males, and-" Bones was suddenly cut short by her partner.

"I think he gets the point, Bones. Do you have cause of death?" he asked curiously, producing a small notepad from his jacket pocket.

Bones was now crouched over the remains, scrutinizing as much as she possibly could. Although they both knew she could only discern so much information from her initial examination. "Looks like multiple stab wounds to costal cartilage facets along the sternum, significant harm to the intercostal muscles, nerves and arteries and some damage to the ribs. Apparent radial fracture to the right wrist based on bruising and position of the hand… fingers have been removed from the proximal phalanges up and her teeth have been pulled out. I'll know more after I perform further examination," she said matter-of-factly.

"Fingers and teeth removed? Sounds like a professional mob hit," Booth commented, jotting down some notes in his notebook.

"There is organized crime in the city- Russian, Albanian, Armenian, etc. Violence from them isn't unheard of, but it's not common. And why attack an American diplomat?" Bowen put in.

"Maybe they didn't know, maybe she got herself into some trouble with them," Booth responded, a bit put off Bowen's commentary.

"But the stab wounds indicate a crime of passion. There's nothing straight forward or precise about these wounds. A professional wouldn't have stabbed her a dozen times," Bones informed them. She stood up and removed her purple latex gloves.

"I need the body bagged up and taken to wherever I can perform a more thorough examination and I want any sediment or clues that turn up from the dredging," Bones stated, looking directly at Bowen.

"Coroner's office good enough?" he asked in reply.

"I suppose it will have to be," Bones said coolly.

"How do you know this is an Embassy employee?" Booth broke in.

"This badge was found on the body," Bowen began, producing an evidence bag. Inside were the damaged remains of what was once an Embassy blue badge, an ID issued to cleared-Americans to gain access to the building. The photo had been scratched out, as well as the name. "After the Czech police handed this over we conducted a phone tree in order to find out who was missing. Haley Daniels, a consular officer, never answered her phone. I sent someone over to her apartment to check it out; after they entered they found no sign of her."

"What do you know about her?"

"Not much. She's young, maybe twenty six. This is her first overseas tour, pretty attractive but new around the Embassy. She was nice, but other than that I don't know much," Bowen told Booth casually. He glanced at the remains, and then looked away in near disgust. Hard to imagine what lay before him was once Haley Daniels. He wondered how this investigating duo was able to deal with such morbid sights every day. What a career…

"Then we'll start by talking with her boss," Booth announced, breaking the DS agent's thought.

"That would be the Consular General," Bowen told him.

"Then off we go."


End file.
